


The Rise and Fall

by grookey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chuck Shurley's A+ Parenting, Fix-It, Gabriel (Supernatural) Needs a Hug, Lucifer & Sam Winchester Friendship, M/M, Mainly Sabriel & Nickifer, Slow Burn, The Winchester Gospels, This was going to have an update schedule but the writer is a mess so it doesn’t anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2019-11-17 13:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18099797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grookey/pseuds/grookey
Summary: “Carver Edlund, otherwise known as Chuck Shurley, otherwise known as God, the big man himself, liked to be prepared. He was sure to write all his novels well in advance. That was his first mistake, of course, leaving prophecies of the Divine Plan lying around could have been forgiven, had they not been found. Unfortunately, a second mistake was made. He had tucked his writing away in a small section of Heaven and told his sons to stay away; There were only two of them at the time—Michael and Lucifer—so, he reasoned, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep them away until he found a better place to hide his work. He had greatly underestimated Lucifer’s penitent for getting into things he shouldn’t.”Armed with knowledge of his Father’s Divine Plan, Lucifer sets out to do what he does best: mess everything up. Sam Winchester wouldusuallysay he’s above siding with the Devil, but the future Lucifer has shown him—the future written in theWinchester Gospels—he wants to avoid it. There’s just one problem, and for once, neither Lucifer nor his true vessel can be blamed for it (no matter what the “god squad” might try and tell you.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a future vessel of the apocalypse is born and everyone shows up to the party.

May 2nd, 1983 is a Monday—and a particularly dreary Monday at that. Early that morning, thick grey clouds had parked themselves above Kansas and refused to budge despite the fact that forecasts had called for sunshine.

The weather is due to the archangel Michael’s sour mood, but John Winchester is none the wiser and so it’s God’s name he curses for the sheets of rain pounding down on his car. Well, he curses God, the weatherman on channel three, every doctor he’s ever taken his wife to see, and very gently and affectionately curses his soon-to-be son for thinking being born a week early was anything close to a good idea.

“It’ll be fine,” Mary Winchester tells her husband, patting his arm affectionately, as if she has not just gone into labor with their second child on an absolutely miserable day exactly as traffic got heavy in time for lunch.

“If you have this baby in the middle of the highway I’m suing,” John replied. He’s not sure who he’s planning on suing, but it’ll be someone. Mary and this baby deserve better than his impala—regardless of the condition he tries to keep it in—but if this weather and traffic keep up…

“John, relax,” Mary said, a bit more forcefully than the first time. “You don’t want to get me worked up—or Dean, for that matter.”

In the back of the car, their son Dean nods in agreement, though the four year old really isn’t sure what’s going on. As far as Mary is concerned, it should stay that way. She doesn't need a panicking toddler and a panicking husband all while she’s having contractions.

“We’re ten minutes away,” John muttered. “That’s too long.”

“That’s more than enough time,” Mary replied, and he could practically hear the eye roll. “My water just broke, what, twenty minutes ago? I’ll be fine.”

John wanted to point out the strain in her voice or the way she was gripping the armrest of her seat so hard her knuckles were turning white, but quickly decided against it. He was many things, but stupid enough to argue with his wife in a moment like this was not one of them.

“Mommy, what does that mean?” Dean asked.

“It just means your little brother is coming, sweetheart,” Mary told him.

Dean shook his head, feeling absolutely horrible for his younger brother. Not even born yet and he had already broken something of Mommy’s?

 _Poor Sammy_ , Dean thought, _he’s going to be in so much trouble._

In the deepest, darkest part of Hell, the Archangel Lucifer was having very much the same thought, though for entirely different reasons. He had waited millennia for Sam Winchester’s birth and by all means he should be excited, but he can’t help the dread creeping up on him with the realization that _it was beginning_.

No, he corrected himself, Sam Winchester’s story had already begun a long time ago, back when the boy’s species was barely more than an idea. This was just the start of a new chapter, so to speak. To be more accurate, it was the start of Chapter Three of the first book in the _Supernatural_ series. And Lucifer should know, he read that stupid piece of junk countless times.

And therein lies a problem; The biggest problem the Universe never knew it had until it was all too late. Shockingly, this problem technically isn’t Lucifer’s fault. He’d argue that most things aren’t his fault, but this? Definitely not—alright, maybe a little bit, but mostly not his fault. At the end of the day, this problem exists because God—and depending on who you ask, this may or may not shock you—made a mistake.

In the year 2008, _Supernatural—_ the first book in a series by the same name—written by one  “Carver Edlund” was published. It quickly gathered a small, but fiercely loyal community that saved its failing publishing company from going under for a few years longer than they really deserved. However, 2008 was not the first time the series saw the light of day. In fact, it gained its first fan on a day so far back that time was not even being properly recorded at that point.

Carver Edlund, otherwise known as Chuck Shurley, otherwise known as God, the big man himself, liked to be prepared. He was sure to write all his novels well in advance. That was his first mistake, of course, leaving prophecies of the Divine Plan lying around could have been forgiven, had they not been found. Unfortunately, a second mistake was made. He had tucked his writing away in a small section of Heaven and told his sons to stay away; there were only two of them at the time—Michael and Lucifer—so, he reasoned, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep them away until he found a better place to hide his work. He had greatly underestimated Lucifer’s penitent for getting into things he shouldn’t.

Needless to say, now down in his cage in the deepest darkest corner of Hell, Lucifer was fairly confident he knew exactly where the story was going next. If he could thank his Father for anything, it was that the old man was stupid enough to write it all down and leave it where curious little fledglings could get their hands on it.

Settling down in a corner, leaning up against the bars, he sighed. He could feel Sam’s birth getting closer and closer. Soon he’d be an actual child, out there, getting absolutely fucked over by life. Lucifer could sympathize with that. It was so much easier when he thought his Father’s secret, forbidden book series was nothing more than a story. In retrospect, it was stupid, but that was all before the Fall. It had been a different time, in a different world, where the idea of him being known as the Adversary, someone who turned against Father, was so unbelievable it had to be fiction. For Sam’s sake, he wished it had been. His poor vessel was going to go through Hell, literally, if Dad’s novels held true.

“They won’t,” Lucifer said, to himself. They won’t hold true because he’s already told Azazel to handle the situation delicately; the books set out a perfect guideline of what not to do and he’s not going to fuck this up.

Back on Earth, John Winchester has fucked everything up.

In his defense, his wife is in labor and his four year old son was only just beginning to pick up on exactly how stressful the situation really was.

“That does not excuse crashing the car,” Michael said, inspecting his vessel—the toddler crying in the backseat—for any damage.

“Humans aren’t very good at handling their nerves,” Raphael responds shrugging vacantly and motioning lazily to the man in question who is caught between mourning his front bumper and getting his wife and child out of the car and into the hospital. “Everything’s fine, brother. Nobody’s hurt. They got to the hospital.”

Everything is not fine whatsoever, but as the older brother it is Michael’s job to at least pretend it is for the sake of his younger siblings. “Somebody’s _going_ to be hurt if I don’t find out who tried to interfere with Father’s divine plan! Lucifer’s vessel wasn’t set to be born until next week!”

“It is Lucifer’s vessel, isn’t it?” Raphael asked. “It makes sense it would cause trouble right from the beginning. Maybe this was just how it was meant to happen.”

“Of course it’s how it was meant to happen!” Michael snapped. “Nothing happens without Father willing it to happen, but that doesn’t make it any less…inconvenient.”

Raphael just nodded, looking not entirely convinced as he followed after the Winchester family through the parking lot and into the hospital. Michael would have to remember to ask about that later—when they weren’t dealing with such a delicate situation. He didn’t think he could bare the closest brother he had left losing faith (which made it all the more unfortunate that Raphael was already firmly of the belief that God was long dead.)

“Do you know how long human births usually take?” Michael asked, watching as humans crowded around Mary, trying to get her into a wheelchair. “Dean’s, as Naomi informed me, was short compared to most erm…labors?”

“Yes, labors,” Raphael confirmed. “It depends. I don’t pay that much attention, but I do know it’s always different. You weren’t there, I believe you were overseeing the sudden influx of souls at the time, but one of the older relatives took _hours_.”

“That’s not too long.”

“Well, yes, but watching a human writhe around in pain is only entertaining for so long.”

Michael glared. Raphael just shot back a polite smile.

“Daddy!” Little Dean’s shout broke the archangels out of their conversation. The toddler was still bawling, making the situation at hand no less stressful for his parents. “You have to go help Baby!”

“Aren’t the other humans taking care of the baby?” Raphael asked, looking down at the child in confusion.

“It’s what he calls the car,” Michael explained, feeling an appropriate amount of shame as he did so. “I believe he’s upset his Father is not running to get it fixed immediately.”

“Baby’ll be fine, we have to look after Mommy and Sammy right now.”

“But Baby is hurt, Daddy!”

Raphael tilted his head. “Humans are _strange_ , brother.”

“We’re not here to judge them, we’re just here to see that Lucifer’s vessel’s birth goes as planned,” Michael replied, though he didn’t necessarily disagree.

“I know I just—your vessel, he knows cars can’t feel pain, doesn’t he?” Judging by the look on the toddler’s face, the answer was no.

“We’re not here to judge them,” Michael repeated with an air of finality.

Raphael had the gall to look amused. “Of course not. We’re just observing.”

And unbeknownst to them, they weren’t the only ones.

Gabriel wished he could say he wasn’t aware of the looming presence of his older brothers. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised someone from Heaven was here, but the fact Michael actually decided to see to this himself—and brought Raphael with him!—was a bit of a shocker. He didn’t think they’d take such a personal interest in the second Winchester’s birth. After all, wasn’t the poor kid just slated to get an archangel blade through the chest?

Brushing those uncomfortable thoughts aside, Gabriel walked past his brothers, pretending he was just as unaware of their presence as all humans were. He was fairly confident he could evade detection even in such tight quarters, but if they had even the slightest inkling he could see them then his little game of “Where’s Waldo?” was kaput.

The thought of being dragged back to Heaven over something so stupid was almost enough of an incentive to get him to turn around and forget about this stupid plan. But no, he couldn’t do that. He was the only doctor on call and he had a future vessel of the apocalypse to deliver!

Dad help him, this was an awful idea, no matter how funny it had seemed when it was all just metaphorical. That was more so because he hadn’t pictured this with his two older brothers and a demon as an audience than it was because of the whole baby delivery thing. He was a fun guy. He’d gotten around. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

With any luck, his brothers would notice the demon soon, and they’d all get too caught up with smiting or whatever to remember they had a baby to watch come into this world.

The aforementioned demon did not like that idea. Not one bit.

Azazel _technically_ didn’t have to be here, but with the child his master seemed so enraptured with popping out earlier than expected, showing up to the hospital seemed like the responsible thing to do. At least then if the child died he could say he tried to prevent it. That certainly wouldn’t stop Lucifer from killing him, but it might be enough to earn him a slightly less painful death. He wasn’t sure the same courtesy would be awarded to him by the two archangels hovering around the Winchesters, and he wasn’t about to find out.

They’ll keep the kid in working order, he hopes, as he speed walks out of the hospital as fast as his legs can carry him.

Don’t get him wrong, Azazel is devoted to his master. Since he was able to make contact with the caged archangel a little over ten years ago he had carried out what orders Lucifer had been able to relay to him without hesitation. That said, if he wanted to continue carrying out those orders, putting himself in the path of the two remaining free archangels wasn’t a good idea. He sent lesser demons to watch over the child instead. If they got themselves killed, well, they would not be missed.

They do get themselves killed, quite painfully. Not by the angels, who as it turns out, were not as interested in smiting as people gave them credit for. Mary Winchester, on the other hand, was none too pleased by the unexpected guests.

After hearing how she had given birth to the vessel, tricked the Father and brother out of the room to get snacks, and killed two demons without any hospital staff taking notice, Azazel almost understood why his master was so interested in young Samuel Winchester. There was certainly potential for greatness there. There weren’t many women who could go through hours of labor and then still be in a state to kill and properly dispose of two demons. (Granted, she’d had help, though by the time John and Dean returned with bags of chips in hand, she had forgotten all about the mystery doctor who had vanished with the bodies with a snap of his fingers. If only Michael and Raphael had stayed past the baby’s first cry, they would have gotten the shock of their lives.)

The next demons he sends are much more careful. They die anyways.

Honestly, Azazel will never understand his master’s insistence that Mary—the demon slaying force of nature that she is—be kept alive. Monitoring the child, doing what needed to be done, it would all be so much easier without her in the picture. He wouldn’t obey a direct order from his master though, no matter how inconvenient it was. 

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried.

Six months later, the Winchester’s home goes up in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed POV so many times in this god damn chapter I swear I got winded. This chapter was _exhausting_ to write, but thank you so much to my beta Paul for helping me with it.
> 
> [Sidenote: “Back on Earth, John Winchester has fucked everything up” might go down in history as one of the best sentences I’ve ever written.]
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT Sep 6, 2019: I _am_ still planning on writing and finishing this fanfiction. I just got super invested in another project and put this on the backburner. I'll come back to it eventually because I really do love what I have planned ahsdjgkl


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam Winchester has an awful week and Azazel has some family bonding time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this chapter took so long to get out! And even sorrier if it becomes a regular thing. I promise I’m not going to abandon this, I just keep getting wrapped up in other projects.

1998 is a big year.

That April fifteen-year-old Sam Winchester has his first kiss, which goes about as well as you’d expect. It was awkward and strange—maybe he shouldn’t have taken Dean’s advice about what to do with his tongue—but it’s not bad, per se. The bad part is afterward when he discovers she and her Mother are the monsters his family is in town to hunt. Her mother tries to kill him, Amy steps in, and Sam finds himself the witness to a matricide. Amy was a monster, Amy was dangerous, he was supposed to hunt her, not kiss her.

Later, when he’s half-asleep in the impala listening to Dean and Dad complain about the monsters having gotten away, he thinks about how soft her lips were and knows he was right to let her go.

That July he gets drunk for the first time. Dad and Dean are out on a hunt they’ve deemed too dangerous for Sam; they ditched him in a dingy motel the first chance they got, and by the third day with nothing but short phone calls, Sam’s pissed about it. No amount of reminding them what kind of hunts Dean was allowed to go on at his age will make them see reason. They only ever treat him like he’s a baby, so like any rebellious teenager, he decides to act grown up.

Dad doesn’t comment on the missing beer, but Dean does. He seems more amused than concerned, the sentiment doubling when Sam admitted he didn’t enjoy it very much. He doesn’t touch alcohol again until college.

That December, he dies for the first time. It’s the first time his life has ever gone off-script. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small discretion. He turned right when he was supposed to turn left and, boom, there’s a bullet in his skull and he’s dead before he hits the floor. He’s brought back, of course, and his memory was erased by a disgruntled Raphael who would really have preferred doing absolutely anything else. He sent an angel after the man who pulled the trigger, but he needn’t have bothered. What was left of the body of an extremely unlucky attempted mugger turned murderer would be found the next morning. On the positive side of things, Azazel’s hellhounds ate well that day. Sure, it had been an error, but it had been a small one and at the end of the day it was all fixed and wrapped up in a nice red bow.

The only one truly confused by all of it was God. 

Sam hadn't been slated to die for at least another couple of years. That bullet, that mugger, none of it had been part of the divine plan. The plan had, to his knowledge, never gone off-script before. It was strange, but more importantly, it was  _exciting_. Everything going exactly as you write it does get boring at times, the idea of some unexpected plot twists didn’t exactly worry him. It should have, but he wouldn’t learn exactly how dangerous those plot twists could be for years. He might've realized sooner, had he only bothered to pay attention to his minor characters.

1998 is a big year for more than just Sam. It's also the year Azazel finally has enough and hunts down his three wayward siblings.

Ramiel, Dagon, and Asmodeus had always been...difficult. They'd never subscribed to Lord Lucifer's goals quite as much as the oldest of the princes nor had they ever shown much interest in leading Hell as they were raised to. Admittedly, Azazel hadn't put much effort into finding them after his siblings one by one deserted their posts, in fact, he'd actually been a bit pleased. Had his siblings chosen to stay, he didn't doubt his hold on Hell's throne would have been challenged.

That said, it did little to ease his disappointment when he finally tracked down the youngest of his siblings.

No one, let alone Azazel, had ever expected much from Asmodeus. As a child, he had resisted his transformation into a demon. He'd been too afraid of the power it would offer him and too kind to imagine hurting others. Even after he accepted his fate and his transformation into a demon was completed, he'd never anything more than a disappointment. He never listened, not to their father, and certainly not to his older brother. It had gotten him punished countless times, to the point where Azazel almost, _almost_ felt bad for his younger brother.

Then he'd become obsessed with the shedim and everything had quickly gone downhill for him. It was a stupid, dangerous idea, but one Asmodeus stubbornly refused to let go. Azazel doubted his brother would have grown a brain in the centuries they'd been apart, so he fully expected to happen upon an insanity fueled mess.

He almost wished he'd found his brother half-insane plotting a way to free the shedim. Azazel could never be that lucky.

"Azazel! How wonderful to see you!" Asmodeus beamed, not even bothering to look ashamed that his brother had just walked in on him with a half-dressed human on each arm. "I haven't seen you in...well, centuries."

"A brothel," Azazel said through clenched teeth. "You abandoned Hell...to run a brothel."

"We're in Nevada," Asmodeus replied. "It's legal."

It took all of Azazel's self-restraint not to turn around right there and spend another few centuries Asmodeus-free. "I didn't realize legality mattered to you, brother."

"I prefer to run a classy establishment, easier to do that without humans causing trouble," Asmodeus shrugged. "Now, are you going to tell me what this little reunion is for, or have you just dropped by to interrupt my..." He paused, looking from one scarcely clothed human to another. "Business."

Lord Lucifer help him. "Ramiel and Dagon, you know where they are, don't you?"

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow and suddenly the humans at his side were gone. Thankfully, as was the tacky sequin-covered suit his brother had previously been sporting, but his new choice of wardrobe—a fully white suit—wasn't much better on the eyes. "Why yes I do, we send yearly Christmas cards."

"And you never sent me one? Asmodeus, I'm  _hurt_."

"We safely assumed you wouldn't want to be included. I thought you said you didn't want to play our--what was it you called it the day Ramiel left?—'traitorous hedonistic games?'" 

Azazel clenched his jaw. "Enough, brother.  _Someone_ has been interfering with my ability to carry out Lord Lucifer's orders, someone with a lot more juice than any old regular demon. You don't have the guts or the brain to do it, so tell me, where are Ramiel and Dagon?"

"Lord Lucifer's orders? Lord Lucifer is still in cosmic timeout, isn't he?" Asmodeus sat up a bit straighter as he spoke, eyes going a bit wider, which filled Azazel with a strange sort of glee.

"I've found a way to communicate with him," Azazel responded, the smile he gave his younger brother was all teeth. "And let me tell you Asmodeus, he was  _most displeased_ to hear only one of his princes remained loyal. He will be free of his prison soon, I've seen to that, so unless you want more scars to match the one he's already given you..."

”Hey now, Azazel, brother, there’s no need for that,” Asmodeus exclaimed, jumping from his seat. “I assure you, none of us would be fool enough to go against Lord Lucifer. We haven’t been gone that long.”

”You were certainly fool enough to abandon him as soon as he wasn’t around to frighten you into following,” Azazel snapped, smirking triumphantly when his brother shrunk back. “Now, answer my question Asmodeus. Where are Ramiel and Dagon?”

“Ramiel is in Oklahoma,” Asmodeus said finally, sighing. “He doesn’t like to be bothered. Won’t tell us exactly where he’s hiding out. Dagon bounces around, but last I heard she was in Mexico. We meet up once a year, we’re going to Hawaii this year maybe you should join us.”

Azazel hummed, tilting his head as if he was actually considering the ridiculous proposition. “I don’t think so.” He reached out, grabbing his younger brother by the arm before Asmodeus could pull back. “You listen very closely Asmodeus. Someone killed someone who Lord Lucifer didn’t want to die and if I don’t find out who did it, it’ll be my neck on the line. I’m not risking that. So you, little brother, are coming with me.”

”Now Azazel—” Asmodeus started. Azazel didn’t wait for the younger demon to finish and before anyone could get another word out they were standing in Oklahoma City.

”Can’t have you running off again,” Azazel said cheerfully, his eyes flashing yellow. “Now come on, it’s time to find Ramiel.”

Asmodeus’s face paled to match his suit...and after a moment Azazel’s face paled to match.

Sam Winchester stared at them, mouth hanging agape. “You’re...you’re...”

Azazel wasn't used to making mistakes. He'd made very few of them in his life as far as he was concerned. This was decidedly one of them. One of the bigger ones too.

”Just leaving!” Azazel announced, grabbing his brother’s arm and putting as much distance between him and the future vessel of the apocalypse as possible. 

Sam watched as the two men before him turned into black smoke and vanished.

Needless to say, he turned and high-tailed it back to the motel room as fast as his legs could take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! I’ve never properly written Azazel and Asmodeus, so I’d really love feedback on that. Sorry, this chapter is like 1,000 words shorter than the last one and was only edited by me, not a beta reader. I really just wanted to get this out.
> 
> Thanks for reading o:


End file.
